


Knew we would crash at the speed that we were going

by r1ker



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M, my longest yeah boy ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 08:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8395180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: guess who's backback againcam's backtell a friendno one told me being in one of the top ten accounting schools in the nation would be like being whipped by the devil fifteen times. needless to say i have returned with some of my finest (SOON TO BE CANON I'M FUCKING PUMPED) work. enjoy





	

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back  
> back again  
> cam's back  
> tell a friend
> 
> no one told me being in one of the top ten accounting schools in the nation would be like being whipped by the devil fifteen times. needless to say i have returned with some of my finest (SOON TO BE CANON I'M FUCKING PUMPED) work. enjoy

When they finally do have that dinner – it's a long way down the road, a lot happens between that initial promise in the school for the shared meal to his dining table, so far from where they promised that Oswald is sure it's not going to happen until it _does_ – it's everything he could have dreamed of.

 

For one, Ed looks nice. Oswald snickers when he sees the sweater vest in green and tan, the bottle of wine tucked sheepishly behind his back, gripped by shaky hands to where it sweats condensation at his belt line. Oswald steps aside to welcome him in without a second thought and soon they're reconvening at the grand dining room table. Ed even goes as far as to pull Oswald's chair out for him before taking his own seat at the other end.

 

"Sorry it took me so long," Ed flushes red at the recalling of his entanglement with Isabella, the stupidity of his actions and thoughts in that moment, the lack of consideration to Oswald. Oswald tips his head in ascension like it wasn't entirely destroying him to hear, see him with her. "That was…not what I had in mind."

 

Oswald can't talk. He won't, for fear of saying something he knows he'll regret when they've moved on from this. Maybe it was unforeseeable, something Ed would have never budgeted in to their relationship, but it happened. "What's important now is that you're here with me. Like you were."

 

Ed nods, agreeing. "Like I was always meant to be." Oswald tries to ignore the way his hand grips at the pants leg of his trousers beneath the table, and the meal commences without much further conversation. Like he's trying to reconcile a schoolboy crush he looks up at Ed several times between courses, gauging his response to the food, the camaraderie they both never thought they'd have.

 

Oswald snickers when one of the courses looks to not be up to Ed's liking. The sour face he bears tells Oswald that the Brussels sprouts will never be held in good favor, so he makes a mental note to tell Olga to ix-nay those. "Olga had free reign over the dish choices for tonight. Had I known Brussels sprouts would have elicited that…adorable response from you, I'd have them banished."

 

"I appreciate that," Ed gets out past the insatiable urge to spit it into his napkin folded over one leg. The rest of it is good, better than anything he'd make living on his own, and maybe he can look past the vegetable that gave him third grade flashbacks and into the imploring eyes of the other person sitting at the end of the table. "What I said about Isabella…I meant. You didn't deserve that. No one does."

 

Beneath his sports jacket Oswald shrugs. He's resigned himself to her and her fate altogether, having desensitized himself to what she promised to take from him, the only good he'd ever seen outside of his beloved mother. The effort he went through to distance himself to what could have happened seems much too great for what it really is now. "I thought once, in the beginning, when it was clear you might not come back, that I didn't deserve you. All I've done, said, none of it constitutes your presence here with me."

The look Ed gives him in response echoes Oswald's victory night all too well. It's one of the possibility to see past what others think of him and into the untapped potential, within it raw admiration. "I thought the same about myself once. But after I looked at everyone around me, who seemed to have people come to them like magnets despite all they'd done, I realized I deserved much more than I was allowing myself. And you are far past what I deserve sometimes. In the grand scheme of things I never saw you coming."

 

In light of that comment dessert is a quiet affair. In the melee between courses they move closer to each other, Ed now sitting to Oswald's left. Trying to avoid eye contact as hard as he can as he remembers what Ed's said tonight he takes a little too much interest in the layers of the dessert on his saucer. Only when does he dare to take a bite does a warm hand wrap around his wrist, implore him to drop the spoon in order to finish the discussion.

 

"Were you going to say anything to me before? Like, when we were actually supposed to have dinner?" Oswald feels that source of courage drop to his stomach, heavy like lead. Of course he was, he'd say more than one thing, he'd say anything the breath in his lungs would let him, anything to let Ed know he's come this far to admit something like love.

 

"I was going to say I'm in love with you." Every single word rushes out on an exhale so painful it makes him think twice about adding anything else to the way _you_ sounds otherworldly. "For a long time I didn't like it about myself. But seeing her with you hurt me so badly I couldn't stand it anymore." When Oswald looks past the crumbs at the edge of the plate, right into Ed's eyes, he's dumbstruck. So he falls back into his old patterns and hugs Ed just like before.

 

When Ed kisses him – thank God, was he going to have to forge a flashing sign that said _kiss me, you bastard_ – it's not quite how he envisioned it. For one, the height difference means a crick in Oswald's shoulders from craning upwards. All that is eased with one of Ed's hands at the base of his neck. If he draws his focus away from Ed's mouth on his long enough to catch it he can swear he feels that hand shaking, as if this small gesture will bring him harm.

 

Ed pulls away first. When Oswald sees his face, red high on his cheeks and glasses this side of twisting at the corners, he laughs, a quiet, restrained sound. "If I didn't know any better I'd say that was your first real kiss in quite a long time. I'm surprised you kept it together for that long." Ed sighs, the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth a sign that he doesn't have the levity to argue about what came before all this, and kisses him again. This time Oswald gets the upper hand, stands up to let Ed know the dinner's going to have to be cut short for now, and leads him into the sitting room adjacent to the dining room.

 

Hands tuck beneath the shoulder padding of Oswald's jacket and he nods to let Ed know it's okay to let it slip quietly to the floor, bunching up onto hardwood with ease. In time they fall back onto the chaise that's been resting against the backs of Oswald's legs for a while. He can hear Ed breathing hard, like it's taking all of his strength not to give into whatever's hiding behind that brooding look right off the bat, hands still working just below Oswald's shoulders. So Oswald stops him to gauge his next moves, a hand on Ed's stubbled jawline. "Don't have to rush. You made sure my schedule was clear until eleven tomorrow…or are you reneging on your duties?" He slowly brings his hands to Ed's face, pads of his fingers trailing just below his cheekbone, slipping the glasses from his face and folding them neatly, the pair going to the dusty windowsill.

 

"Not reneging on them, just expanding," Ed says into the small space from where they threaten to come together for another kiss. Outside the window nearest to where they lie together on the couch, Ed in the space between Oswald's legs, the rain picks up. Some of it seeps into an unfortunate gap in between panes of glass, puddles beneath Ed's glasses. Like he's paying any attention; right now he's working on divesting Oswald of the rest of his clothes, undershirt and dress shirt coming off easily, gathering in the crooks of his elbows where he's got his arms around Ed's neck, urging him on.

 

After a while, the dinner on the table is cold. Olga's done all she can to take care of some of the mess, not mindful at all of the two in the other room, where Oswald lays on his chest. He can hear his heart pounding beneath the freckled skin covering his breastbone, and feels Ed's fingers at the back of his neck, gathering soft hair in his touch absentmindedly.

 

"Do you think she left cake on the table?" Ed asks softly after a few moments of mutual, peaceful silence. Oswald shakes with a laugh and lifts his head up, kisses Ed once, twice. "Serious question. You were a fine substitute for every other course if that does anything for you." He pulls Oswald's hand off his chest, holds it in his own for just a second before kissing the very top. "If you let me up I'll even share." This time Oswald properly grins, wraps Ed up in a knit blanket for modesty's sake, and they both rise, dessert in light of their night in their minds.


End file.
